


KNOWING WHEN

by thoughtsdemise



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Dominance/submission, M/M, Mech/Mech, Sticky Sex, delayed overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7710655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small bite of playtime ala Rung and Wing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	KNOWING WHEN

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SparkBeat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkBeat/gifts).



> A/N: Well damn. I forgot I even wrote this.

Rung draws his digits along the cloth gag in Wing’s oral cavity.  His thumb circles just below an amber optic before he leans forward to press a rewarding kiss to a white helm.  He swipes the condensation away from beneath his thumb.  He licks the warm metal beneath his lips and murmurs a happy huff.  Bare of his spectacles, Rung lowers his gaze to capture Wing’s full focus.  His smile is slow and siliceous as he watches Wing clench his hands into fists, no doubt fighting the desperate urge to touch what he had been forbidden to.

“Such a good little warrior,” Rung presses a kiss against the cloth gag in Wing’s mouth with the whisper.  He tilts the white helm back so the amber optics stare at the ceiling.  “Such a wonderful treasure I’ve found myself too.”

Rung settles himself on Wing’s lap.  The larger mech tenses and shifts minutely.  Rung chuckles and rubs white shoulders.  He shifts forward and presses the straining spike between himself and Wing’s abdominal plating.  He wraps his arms about Wing in a gentle hug and rests his helm under the white chin guard.  He sighs happily, nuzzling into the heated frame.  He shifts closer to Wing.  The friction between their frames against Wing’s spike making the large mech whine and tense his arms, locking the joints into place.  Rung chuckles and slides a hand slowly down Wing’s chest.

“My treasure, are you having a difficult time behaving?”  Rung drew his glossa over Wing’s throat.  “What is it that you wish of me?”  The wandering hand strokes the plating over Wing’s spark and taps a light beat in time with the excited throbs he can feel beneath the plating.  Rung huffs warm air over Wing’s wet neck.  “I think I know what you want most right now, treasure.”

The warrior draws taunt when Rung’s small digit rubs against the tip of his spike.  A muffled whine and a line of brilliant light flows from amber optics making the small mech smile greedily.  Rung presses firmly against the transfluid channel opening.  Wing shouts into the gag and grabs viciously at his ankle joints in response.  Rung bites at his lower lip.  His field greedily raking through the tangle of Wing’s.  He grips the head of Wing’s spike firmly, pressing his thumb in on the underside of it before stroking down to the base.

“I bet I know what you want to do to me right now, treasure,” Rung whispers next to Wing’s audio.  The larger mech trembles but leans closer to catch every tonal shift of Rung’s whisper.  “You want to yank me from your lap, throw me on my back, and thrust into my plush valve until neither of us can move.”  

Rung draws the hand back over Wing’s spike, varying the tightness of his grip to mimic the cycling walls of a valve.  Wing begins to move his hips unconsciously into the circle of Rung’s hand.  The small mech shifts so his other hand drapes behind Wing.  Stroking Wing’s back, Rung murmurs senseless pleased noises.  Rung draws that hand slowly up to the knot of the cloth at the back of Wing’s helm.  He undoes the knot slowly.  The loose ends fall and tickle against neck cables already sensitized thanks to the earlier licking.  Now only Wing’s denta digging into the cloth is keeping the gag in his mouth.

Rung chuckles, low with a promise of more.  “Such a good treasure you are.”  Rung’s words are possessive and a petting stroke to the mech in his arms.  He runs his hand down to the base of Wing’s spike, circling it there for a few moments.  Still Wing holds his ankles tightly.  Rung draws his hand up the slowly thrusting length, tightening it to a bruising force as he does.  “Such a good treasure indeed.”

Rung lowers his hand midway down Wing’s cable.  With his other hand, he uses Wing’s shoulder to steady himself as he rises.  The modesty plating covering his valve slowly snicking aside.  A thin trail of lubricant touches the head of the spike and lights Wing’s neural net on fire, nearly redlining his engine.  Rung settles himself over just the head of the spike.  He lowers himself to the barrier of his hand and shifts in small circles.  Wing’s spiralling cries music to Rung’s audios.

His small hand comes up to cup the back of a white helm.  Rung pulls Wing to him so they can kiss deeply.  The cloth, still in Wing’s mouth acting as a block between their glossas.  Rung draws his hand about Wing’s helm.  His small digits toy with the end of the cloth before pulling it from between them, allowing Wing’s glossa to spear into Rung’s mouth.  The warrior’s hands tighten on his ankle joints stressing them further.  Rung’s valve still only just encompassing the head of the spike. Wing’s upward thrusts turn more desperate but are unable to penetrate deeper.

Rung lets Wing ravage his mouth with his glossa.  His blue optics slitted open to capture the full effect of pleasure lighting those amber optics.  His thumb comes up to circle and stroke beneath them again.  Rung draws back from the kiss with a slick pop.  Wing’s lips move in a silent plea.  He pecks a kiss on Wing’s nose before a slow smug smile slinks its way across his lips.

He removes his hand and lets gravity draw him down to the base of Wing’s spike.  He watches avidly as Wing draws in a deep vent, staring straight at his blue optics.  Rung draws his lubricant soaked hand up to his lower abdominal plating, leaving lines along its path.  His digits circle and press at the small bulge there from his lover being seated so deeply inside of him.  The way Wing’s field is strangling and frying itself, Rung knows Wing is close to losing it.  A fond smile snakes over his lips as he presses fully into Wing’s frame and hugs him tightly.

“Hold me,” he huffs in a whisper.

Rung purrs in pleasure as Wing’s arms come up and clamp tightly around him.  He rides Wing’s tidal wave of overload in joy.  Loving the feel of his lover falling apart in his arms.  The transfluid flowing into him as WIng shakes and clings to him makes Rung hums in true pleasure.  He licks at the condensation collecting along Wing’s shoulder.  How he loved making Wing fall apart.  Rung nibbles on his lip and again thumbs Wing’s cheek below darkened amber optics.  He smiles fondly and waits for Wing to come back online so that they could continue this dance.


End file.
